In the Middle of the Night

A couple of nights ago I was awakened by the sound of feet running down the hall and into our bathroom. I sat up, noted that Studly wasn’t in bed, and called his name. There was no answer.

I got out of bed and hurried into the bathroom worried that Studly, who’d been under the weather, had gotten sick. The bathroom, though, was empty. Hmmm. I checked the den and there he was, snoring away from the comfort of his recliner.

Returning to bed, I surmised that the cats had enjoyed one of their tumbling runs through the house, even though the sound of running feet had seemed much louder than two middling sized cats could’ve generated. Again I dozed off into dreamland.

Sometime before dawn, I was startled awake again by the same sound of running feet. This time I noted that one cat, Scout, was sleeping peacefully beside me and that her “sibling,” Patches, was firmly ensconced in her favorite chair. Studly, was still in his recliner snoring like a freight train. Obviously I had experienced an auditory dream. It was unnerving.

Have any of you experienced such a phenomenon? Often I hear music in my dreams that lingers over into my waking life, but the sound of running feet was a first. I don’t want to hear that ever again.

Instead, I’ll listen to Billy Joel.

https://youtu.be/yb9rvpTDIsg

Peace, people!

Privacy Please!

You know what isn’t cool? Having someone ignore your multiple declarations of “Just a minute, please!” to intrude on your bathroom privacy. Making it worse? Said bathroom was an outdoor facility just yards from a busy road. Even worse? I was caught with my pants down and my lily white ass waving in the wind.

The perpetrator closed the door immediately, but still! Now I’m afraid the paparazzi will seek me out. I always knew I’d get some much needed exposure. Just didn’t plan for it to happen in this manner.

Peace, people.

Derby Photos

The inaugural Kentucky Derby Gala hosted by the Hereford Senior Center in Hereford, Texas, on Saturday evening was a huge success. I’m back home in Florida this Monday morning, and my brain’s too fuzzy to write much. So, enjoy my unedited, mostly uncaptioned photos of the party.

Highlighting the evening were our own mini-horse races. Here’s a bit of the first heat:

I laughed more than I have in ages.

I’m eager to learn how the much the fundraiser made for the center. And next year, I’m going to have a fancier hat. (Taken at my mother-in-law’s home, pre-gala)

Peace, people.

Derby Day

The eldest of my two younger brothers attended a Kentucky Derby several years ago and never once saw a horse at the event. That was his goal, in fact. He stood in the infield, sipping some fine Kentucky bourbon, and enjoyed all the festivities except for the actual race.

I really thought I’d set a better example for him during his formative years. Shouldn’t he at least have had a mint julep or two whilst watching the three-year-old thoroughbreds pound the track? Maybe I’m just jealous. He’s been to a great many more big events in his life than I have.

This year, I’m going to a derby! Not the derby, mind you, but my eldest sister-in-law is the director of the Senior Citizens Center in Hereford, Texas, and this year she and her staff are putting on a Kentucky Derby Gala to raise funds for the center. It’s such a big deal that I flew in for the event.

We’ll watch the Derby on big screens while coyly sipping mint juleps beneath festively decorated hats. Afterwards we’ll have a gourmet meal followed by an auction and our own horse race with pint sized mechanized ponies:

Those pictured above are just a sampling of the horses that will grace our paddocks.

I’m so excited! I purchased two hats for the evening, but accidentally left the smaller one, a fascinator, at home. Since I only have one head, it won’t be a problem.

Yesterday afternoon I got a sneak peek at the decorations, and the place looks fabulous. We’re in for a fun evening.

And I’ll at least see a horse or two.

Peace, people!

Snapshot #232

On Wednesday morning I had a follow up visit with my eye doctor concerning the floater in my right eye. Of course she dilated my eyes, necessitating the wearing of a dark plastic shade insert for my glasses.

Since I had a dental appointment later that same day, I just stayed in Tallahassee and ran a few errands in preparation for a trip to Texas. I needed quart storage baggies, so I ran into Winn Dixie where I ended up standing in the checkout line long enough to make friends with the 20-something man/boy in front of me.

We passed our time making snarky comments and contemplating the differences between Tampa (where he lived) and Tallahassee (where he’s moving).

After several minutes he asks, sincerely, “Where did you get those cool glasses?”

I looked carefully at him to see if he was being sarcastic, but couldn’t find a trace of that in his demeanor. With a grin, I pulled the plastic insert out from behind my glasses.

“You mean these?”

“Oh, I thought you just had some seriously cool glasses.”

I explained that I’d had my eyes dilated and that without the plastic shades everything would be too bright.

“Well, it’s a good look.”

You know what? I’m calling this one: “I’m Gonna Own This Fashion Statement.”

Oh, the Humanity!

It might not have been a good idea to watch Avengers: Endgame on Sunday morning and this season’s Episode 3 of Game of Thrones on Monday evening. I’m an emotional wreck.

No spoilers, but in both cases some favorite characters died. I know exactly which ones left us in Endgame, but thanks to the overly dark ambience in Game of Thrones, I’m not completely sure who was killed and who is still among the living. There may be tears shed after next week’s episode when we learn their fates.

On a slightly, but not really, related note, this floater in my right eye is bumming me out. My understanding is that it might be my new normal. I’m thinking of naming it “Splot” because it’s more than a “Spot,” but less than a “Blot.” Out, damned Splot!

I teared up as I told Studly Doright that there’s a possibility I’ll never get to ride a roller coaster again for fear of ending up with a detached retina. Roller coasters are my thing, and I’d hoped for a few more good years of riding with my grandkids. Studly, who doesn’t want anything to do with roller coasters had trouble empathizing with me.

“It’s like when you had to give up racquetball after your knee replacement surgeries,” I told him.

“Yep, and I did it,” he gloated. Studly isn’t exactly known for his willpower, so that carried some weight.

“As long as I can still read, I guess I’ll be okay,” I sighed.

“Look on the bright side,” Studly said. “Reading has never sent you to the chiropractor. Roller coaster riding always does.”

He’s right, dammit. Here’s to many more years of reading.

Peace, people.

Cinderella, Dressed in Yellow

Sketch a girl in black and white,

Pigtails flying, slapping against a plaid shirtwaist

Skinny sun browned legs skip-hopping to a rhythmic chant

Cinderella, dressed in yellow,

Went upstairs to kiss a fellow.

Made a mistake and kissed a snake,

How many doctors did it take?

Rope twirls ’round, up, then down, over and over again.

All in the wrist, she thinks as she counts, “One, two…twenty…ninety,” and beyond.

So many doctors! She can jump all day, or at least until recess ends.

I’m All Right

Yesterday I had a doctor’s appointment in Tallahassee. It was the last in a series of appointments and procedures involving my cranky digestive system. Everything went well. While the doctors identified a couple of minor issues, basically I’m merely aging and falling apart piece by piece.

After paying an arm and a leg (heh) for the privilege of learning I’m old, I left the doctor’s office feeling poorer, but relieved. I’d prepared myself for bad news, hypochondriac that I am, and instead I just learned that my body is going through some changes.

Hmmm. Didn’t I hear the same thing back in sixth grade? Puberty was a piece of cake compared to this, though. Okay, so I didn’t like the pimples and period stuff, and the awkwardness and insecurities really stunk. Oh, and the growth spurt that propelled me to the top of my class’s height chart and kept me there through most of junior high and high school wasn’t much fun either.

On second thought, I wouldn’t trade my current issues for those I faced in puberty. To paraphrase one of my favorite movie quotes: “We don’t need no stinking training bras.”

Hooray for aging. Hooray for me.

https://youtu.be/rbQgaHZOFZ0

Peace, people.